Entry 29 – I Have Just One Small White Knife, With A Sharp Blade
I use it to cut angry onions, fiery peppers that do my hands dirty in the end, sweet oranges, delightful pawpaw, complicated potatoes, soft plantains, thick melons, meat, and bananas. I hate red limes but I lick them anyway, so I always cut them more viciously. This same knife slices my favorite scent leaves, my dried-up vegetables from two days ago, my green leaves for yam-and-plantain porridges, and precious uha leaves for my wonderful soup. It is just me and my knife in the kitchen, an unholy partnership of hunger and survival. But why am I writing this now? Because some time ago, my knife had unwillingly summoned my blood without my permission. I was only notified by my own involuntary scream during what should have been an innocent apple feast! The whit
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